


Moustache Rides, 25 Cents

by Imogen_Penn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sexual Metaphors, Shameless Smut, Smut, This is all Katy and Meri's fault, beardy!steve, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_Penn/pseuds/Imogen_Penn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened, it had honestly been an innocent mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moustache Rides, 25 Cents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merideath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/gifts), [katertots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katertots/gifts).



> So, this all started from a hilarious discussion in the comments of Merideath's "Your Will is not Your Own" (which you should go read right now). Katertots started the madness by linking the concepts of beardy!steve and moustache rides. It was really a short downhill slope from there to this madness.
> 
> Huge thanks to Meri for taking a look at this and making it sexier than it was before. You have a real gift for that Lady! A sexy sexy gift.

The first time it had happened, it had honestly been an innocent mistake.

There were a lot of things that had changed in the years he had missed. Cell phones and the internet really hadn’t taken him too long to get his head around; it was the language that was killing him. Sure it was supposed to be English, but slang was so mutable and culture specific that, at first, whole conversations had gone right over his head. Especially conversations with Tony.

That didn’t happen so often anymore. He had become very good at listening for the contextual clues so he never had to ask what shot gunning a beer meant, or who Miley Cyrus was.

Every once in a while though, especially when he wasn’t really paying attention, something would slip past him.

Right now, for example, he was barely listening to the blond in the tiny but no doubt expensive dress who was talking to him about a car dealership. He thought maybe she owned it, or her father did? He couldn’t remember. He knew public events like this were important, but he honestly felt like he was going to do something drastic if he had to be on the receiving end of one more thinly veiled pick up attempt. He had never been any good at turning down women. Hadn’t had a heck of a lot of practice with it before though; he was starting to get the hang of it now.

He was far more interested in watching Phil Coulson’s assistant make her way across the crowded room apparently diligently avoiding someone. He couldn’t figure out who. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her flinch in the face of anyone less than Colonel Fury. He took a quick look around and, of course, Fury was looking across the crowd with an ominous expression.

Steve grinned. Darcy Lewis, professionally pissing off the SHIELD higher ups like it was her job. She was, by all accounts, very very good at her job. It seemed to involve getting Agent Coulson whatever he wanted, no matter how many rules and regulations stood in the way.

He had learned quite quickly that if he wanted to get out of something official, Darcy was really the person to talk to. He hadn’t let on yet that he knew this though. He thoroughly enjoyed waiting around at her desk to see if Coulson would have a spare minute for him. He also tended to show up very early for appointments.

And yet, he still hadn’t found a way to work under her professional demeanor. Oh she was friendly enough, would talk to him about her weekend plans or what music she was listening to. But of all the SHIELD agents he regularly encountered, she was the only one who never caved and asked for an autograph, or asked about World War II, or lingered a bit too long in the hall behind him when he wore his uniform. It was a real pity, because she was the only one who he really wouldn’t mind it from.

Hell, he lingered behind her in hallways plenty.

He was lingering on thoughts of her hips swinging in pencil skirts and high heels, when his attention was pulled back to the blonde who had just tucked something in his jacket pocket and was telling him in a low voice to “Call her if he ever wanted to see how she handled a stick.”

He managed to make a non-committal noise as she trotted off, but he was not entirely sure why he would want to watch her drive a car. Take one for a spin himself, sure. But Steve wasn’t much good at riding shotgun.

He turned back to find Darcy in the crowd again, and found she was much closer than he had thought. She was standing at the wall near him, looking distinctly like she was choking back laughter. He took a few steps towards her.

“Everything okay, Miss Lewis?” he asked quizzically.

“Oh,” she said, taking in his confused expression, “Oh, you really didn’t get…” she collapsed against the wall with a smothered chortle.

Steve grinned and stepped in closer. She was wearing a dress that swung about her knees and dipped low in the front. It was taking a significant amount of discipline to keep his eyes up. She looked more comfortable and less like the all business persona he was used to encounterin. He liked it. He really liked the way she was laughing, rather than the ever so slightly tight smiles he usually got.

“I hate to be the one to explain it to you, Captain,” she said, regaining control of herself, “but whoever that bleach blond socialite was, she just offered to, uh…” her cheeks reddened and she stammered. “Well, you know, ‘drive stick’.”

She was flustered. He could see it; the way the color wasn’t fading from her cheeks and the way she was tucking her hair behind her ear. All his time showing up early for appointments and lingering around her desk had done nothing, but Steve Rogers had found a little gap in her professional exterior. He had every intention of exploiting it.

“Drive stick?” he asked guilelessly, “She owns a car dealership, if that’s what you mean?”

Darcy spluttered in an endearing fashion. “No, no that is not what I mean, Captain. Just…think about it. You know how to drive a standard transmission, right?”

Steve nodded, biting the inside of his lip to hold onto his innocent expression. It was a good thing he’d had a lot of practice at pretending to be pure as the driven snow growing up with nuns in the orphanage. And he and Bucky had ended up lying blind to the cops a few times as well.

“Well, what she meant was…that…but if the gear shift was…you know…” she was bright red now, as she gestured somewhat absently towards his crotch.

“Oh,” said Steve with a slow grin. “Well, that was fairly forward of her wasn’t it?”

Darcy laughed, some of her color fading, “Just a little,” she agreed. “Although you have to admire her can-do spirit. She saw something she wanted, and went for it.”

“I suppose,” said Steve idly, pulling into his pocket where she had tucked her card. “It’s too bad that…uh, Sandra,” he read off, “didn’t have a single interesting thing to say.”

He dropped the card into a planter that was tucked next to the window beside Darcy, reaching close enough that his hand brushed against her hair and he caught a whiff of her floral perfume.

She grinned at him. “Good to know you’ve got some standards, Captain,” she said.

“Steve,” he corrected.

“Right,” she said, ducking her head with a little smile, “I suppose I’ve never really run into you outside of the office before.”

“I suppose not,” he said evenly, even as he was planning how he might run into her again. He could see the crowd moving a few meters away and saw an opportunity. “Colonel Fury looks like he’s on his way over,” he said casually, “looks a bit angry, to be honest.”

Darcy froze, “Oh crap,” she said, casting her eyes around.

“Need an escape route?” he asked, “because I’ve got a car waiting downstairs, I could give you a lift home?”

“Seriously?” she asked, “That would be awesome.”

He offered his arm, and forced himself to maintain a polite distance as her hand linked over his forearm and he could feel the warmth of her brushing against his side. He started for the back exit.

“So why’s Fury looking for you?” he asked.

“I spiked the punch,” said Darcy with an unrepentant grin, lifting the hem of her dress to reveal a flask tucked into a stocking and a glimpse of just enough creamy skin to make his mouth go dry, “I think he found out.”

+

+

The second time it happened, it was very very intentional.

“Miss Lewis,” he strolled up to her desk early the next week, “how was the rest of your weekend?”

He’d wanted to ask for her number on their way home, wanted to walk her up to her apartment in an old brick building a little too close to the bad part of town for his comfort, but it was becoming clear to him that she was slow to let people in, and he was willing to take his time.

“Darcy,” she said, looking up with a grin, “anyone who’ll get in the way of Fury for me can use my first name. The weekend was good. Relaxing. How about you?”

“Not bad,” he said, “It did lead to a question I was hoping you could answer, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Sure Steve, shoot,” he could see her fading back behind her carefully friendly workplace veneer, another problem to solve.

“Actually,” he tried to hide a grin, “it’s not really the sort of question I’d like to ask in the office. The walls have ears, you know. Do you have a break? I could buy you a coffee for your trouble.”

“Oh,” she looked back up, surprised but also, he thought, pleased, “yeah, sure. Just a second.” Her fingers flew over her keyboard for a moment and then she picked up the phone.

“Hey boss, taking my break.”

There was a pause.

“Yes now.”

Another pause.

“Yeah it is, but it’s nothing you need to deal with.”

She sighed.

“Yes Phil, I’ll tell him.”

She hung up.

“Phil says hi,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Well I say hi to Phil,” he said with a grin, “you ready?”

He waited until they had made it out the front doors and onto the street before he sprung phase two of the plan on her. He had stopped worrying about the fact that he tended to make plans that had specific phases for everything from grocery shopping to beating Clint at video games a long time ago.

“I was out with Clint and Natasha last night,” he started, “and Clint said something I didn’t really get. I think it might have been, you know, about…sex,” he ran a hand across the back of his neck for good measure, “so I didn’t want to ask them…”

“But you thought you’d ask me?” Darcy was staring at him incredulously.

“Well you were so nice about the whole stick shift thing at the party,” he explained.

She was looking at him suspiciously.

He gazed innocently back.

“Fine,” she said, color creeping up her neck, “what was it.”

“If I asked you to ‘sixty nine,’ what would that mean?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” he didn’t think she was asking him, but she was doing that thing where she tucked her hair behind her ear and bit at her lip.

“That bad, huh?” he asked with a grin.

“Oh it’s not bad,” she said quickly, like she hadn’t even thought about it. Then she froze, “I mean, you know, two consenting adults…and it’s not even that….” She let out a huff. “Okay,” she said as if steeling herself. “Okay, do you know about…oral sex?” she cringed.

Steve didn’t think it was all that promising that she couldn’t even say the words ‘oral sex’ to him without cringing, but that’s why there was a plan.

“Yes,” he said, “I know what oral sex is. I have not been living under a rock. Just, you know, in the past.”

“Do you want an answer or do you just want to sass me, Steve,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned, “I’ll be good.”

“So, if you asked me to sixty nine, it would mean oral sex, but…at the same time, so it would kind of look like…sixty nine…”

He hadn’t really counted on the impact of her saying the words “if you asked me to sixty nine” out loud to him. And he certainly hadn’t counted on the very vivid mental picture it had conjured up. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Ahhh,” he said after a moment, “got it.”

“So,” she said, looking like she was forcing the color out of her cheeks by sheer force of will “you promised coffee?”

He tried not to feel too triumphant when, as he was holding the door for her, she bumped into the door frame. He was pretty sure she had been staring at his mouth.

+

+

“Hey Darcy,” he greeted her as he slid into the booth beside her, placing a cold pint of beer in front of her.

“Hey,” she said looking surprised, “what’s this for?”

“Line-up is getting a bit long. Dr. Foster got distracted.” He gestured over his shoulder where Jane Foster, who had looked to be heading for the drink line-up, had one hand wrapped around Thor’s arm and was edging towards a darkened corner.

“Traitor,” muttered Darcy, sipping the beer, “It was supposed to be a girl’s night. We should have gone somewhere else.”

It was true that keeping Jane separated from Thor wasn’t all that easy in the bar where most of the SHIELD agents liked to hang out on the weekend. It was the first place anyone would come to look for them.

Of course, it meant that Steve, with Natasha’s help, was able to move to phase three. There was no keeping Natasha out once she caught wind of a capital P Plan. No point to it either. She was good with plans.

“Yeah,” he said, “I was supposed to be coming for a quiet drink with Clint and Natasha, but she goaded him into playing darts again.” As if to prove his point, a loud roar, some parts triumph some parts crushing defeat, came from over by the dart board. “I suppose I could make due though,” he said with a grin, gently shoving her with his elbow.

“You’re a real prince, Steve,” Darcy said with a sarcastic grin, “Still, I’ll take being second choice to hanging out with the Black Widow.”

“Well,” said Steve, “I had a look around for Tony first.”

He grinned and raised his hands in defense as she plowed a surprisingly powerful fist into his shoulder.

Just then, he saw it. A perfect golden opportunity laid out on a platter. Well, on some junior analyst, but still.

“You done hitting me?” he asked her.

“For now,” she said with a grin.

“Great, so can you explain that t-shirt?” he gestured to the young man in a light blue shirt on the other side of the bar.

Darcy caught site of it and groaned, “Why do these things keep happening to me?” she muttered.

“It’s about sex?” he asked, trying to sound surprised.

She let out a long sigh, “Yes Steve, it’s about sex. Seriously, it’s like you’re a magnet for bad sexual metaphor.”

“So…” he drew out the moment, “if you were to ask me for a moustache ride….?”

“Okay, firstly, I would never actually use the term ‘moustache ride’ unless I was being ironic, and secondly you don’t actually have a moustache, so it’s a moot point.”

“I could always grow one, if it would help the explanation,” said Steve.

She spluttered for a moment, looking at him with something like appraisal.

“Fine, if you theoretically had a moustache, and I theoretically actually used the term moustache ride then theoretically,” she paused and took a swallow of her beer, “I would be asking for oral sex. But, you know, riding…”

“So you would be on top,” Steve clarified in as matter a fact a tone as he could manage.

“Yes,” she said, suspiciously focused on her drink.

“So if you would never actually use the term moustache ride,” Steve asked with a smirk, “theoretically, how would you actually ask me for that.”

She took a long pull of her drink and looked him straight in the eye.

“Steve, I would just ask if I could sit on your face until you made me fall apart.”

He supposed, later that night after he had seen her to a cab, he had kind of deserved to get some of his own back. He couldn’t regret it too much though, even if it was a bit distressing how little time it had taken him to come with that thought in his head and his hand on his cock.

+

+

Phase four had pretty much been his endgame. He was planning to admit that, aside from that first time, he hadn’t actually needed any of that stuff explained to him. He was still working out the best way to explain to her that he had just been searching for a way to be something other than the Captain to her.

Life, as was pretty usual, did not give two shits about his plans.

He was walking down the corridor towards his room in the Avengers tower, talking to Clint who had just come out of a frustrating tech meeting.

“I swear to god Cap,” he was saying, “if those blowhard gun happy explosion nuts try to force one more overcompensatingly phallic super weapon down my throat, I am going to lose it.”

Steve laughed, Clint’s venting was always entertaining. “They’re shoving their guns down your throat are they? Be careful about that, those boys have a hair trigger, you wouldn’t want them to blow their load.”

Clint chuckled, “You’re right Cap, although they’re not packing much heat.”

“Nothing worse than a half cocked firearm. Those boys were never very good with the pump action.”

“Oh, nice one Cap. Listen, I gotta run. But seriously, tell them no more guns, yeah?”

“Will do Barton.” He clicked the phone shut.

There was a distinctly icy cough from behind him. He froze, then turned slowly.

Darcy was standing in the hallway behind him, her arms crossed and an angry expression on her face. The one time he’s not aware of her schedule and she has business in the Tower. Typical.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she said tightly. “Nobody with that many off the cuff ‘my gun is a penis’ jokes need to be told what a moustache ride is.”

“I was…in the army?” he tried lamely, taking a step towards her. This was going FUBAR fast, he could see in her eyes.

“Was it some kind of joke? ‘Boy that Darcy Lewis sure is gullible. She’ll buy my man out of time act, that ought to be good for a few cheap laughs.’” Her voice was creeping up in volume and he thought he could see tears swimming around her eyes.

“What?” he exclaimed, “No! Of course not. I would never…”

“Then what the hell were you playing at Rogers!”

He really didn’t like not being Steve. He really really didn’t like her closed off and tight body language. He downright hated the way she swiped angrily at her eyes. Also himself a little bit right now.

“You never looked at me twice before,” he said softly, sticking his hands in his pockets and wishing they could do this pretty much anywhere else.

“What?” she at least looked more confused and less angry at this.

“I’d been coming around for weeks. Showing up early for appointments, finding excuses to wait around for Coulson when I knew you could handle it in five seconds. But you were always so…professional.”

“Well, it’s my job Steve,” she said mutinously. But she was using his first name again.

He risked a step closer.

“At the party, I swear that one actually did fly right over my head. And you were so kind about it, and you were so goddam cute when you blushed and, you know, it was pretty damn sexy listening to you explain it.” He actually was feeling nervous and awkward this time. It was far less terrifying when he had had a plan. “It was the first time you really looked at me, you know?”

She had a look of deep consideration on her face. “So when you came back the next week…”

“It was the only thing I knew was guaranteed to get me talking to you. Not Phil Coulson’s terrifyingly efficient assistant.”

He thought he saw the tiniest quiver of a grin at the corner of her lips.

“And we did talk. All the way back from the coffee shop. I remember you were describing the way you felt the first time you went to the Met. How you lost track of time and didn’t realise it until they were closing the building, because I knew exactly that feeling. And at the bar when I was telling you about Bucky getting arrested for public nudity and you laughed until you started to cry, and when I came by your desk and you played that album for me and…” he was rambling, but thankfully she stopped him, stepping close enough to wrap her hand around his wrist.

He stilled.

“So, you weren’t making fun of me?”

“Of course not,” he turned his hand over so he could squeeze hers, “I was trying to flirt with you,” he said with a grin.

“You’re an idiot,” she said. But she was smiling, and she was rolling up on her toes, and her other hand was on his shoulder, and Steve didn’t need to think twice about it.

He wrapped his free hand around her waist, pulled her against his chest, and dipped his head so he could kiss her.

He’d thought about this. A lot, in hundreds of iterations and intense Technicolor detail. Now that it was happening, now that her hair was sliding between his fingers, the subtle scent of her in his nose, the soft give and part of her lips under his, he thought his imagination had some very serious issues with not being anywhere near good enough.

Somewhere in between the soft and gentle beginnings of it, and the way her hand was now fisted in his shirt and her teeth were pulling at his lower lip, he had lost control of the moment. But the little noise she made when he took a stumbling step and pressed her up against the wall as he licked into her mouth made him not care.

But it was becoming very difficult not to press his hips against hers, not to slide his hand under her shirt and feel her hot skin. She tugged gently on his hair in a way that made “very difficult” move a lot closer to “impossible” and he broke away with a gasp.

“Woah,” he let out in a low breath, just looking at her for a moment. He had ruined her neatly styled hair which now fell over her shoulders in loose and tangled waves. Her eyes were bright and her mouth red, she was breathing hard, her chest rising and hitching in a very distracting fashion.

“Yeah,” she echoed, her fingers tightening against his skin.

“We should…” he trailed off, finding it difficult to even say the word stop. “Anyone could see,” he finally finished.

She bit her lip and all of Steve’s attention was focused on the spot as it slipped under her teeth.

“You have to be anywhere?” she asked, looking up at him with an expression that spelled trouble.

Well, that was fine. Steve Rogers could handle trouble.

“Free and clear,” he said, resting his hand beside her on the wall so he could lean in a little closer, “what do you have in mind?”

“Well,” she said, trying to hide a grin, “I have a few questions for you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah, like what exactly does it mean when you old timers ask a girl if she’s rationed. I heard it in a movie once.”

Steve laughed, stepping back to grab her hand and pull her towards his room down the hall. “Means he’s asking if a girl’s going steady with someone,” he blindly opened the door and pulled her in, pressing her up against it as he closed it behind them.

“What about this?” she asked as his hand slid under her shirt to wrap around her waist, “what would you call this?” she sounded giddy and breathless in a way that made him feel uncomplicatedly happy.

“I’d say I’m getting pretty fresh with you right now,” he managed to get out as he worked his way down the smooth skin of her neck.

“I thought you soldiers were all about ‘loose lips sink ships',” she said, her hands working under the waistband of his pants.

He gasped at the feeling of her fingers on his hipbones and then grinned against her collarbone.

“Don’t be a pill, dollface,” he said with a wink, and then he slung a hand under her ass, hauling her up against him. She threw her legs around his waist with a squeak of surprise and held onto his shoulders with an iron grip, but it was closely followed by a low moan and a loosening of all the tension in her as he pressed her back against the door. He had no doubt she could feel his cock pressed hot and hard between her thighs.

“Darce,” he breathed against her skin, letting his head fall to her shoulder, “is this…?”

He was cut off as she pulled his chin up to her face and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. “Don’t you dare think of getting all noble and old fashioned on me now, Rogers,” she tightened her legs around his waist, pulling her hips closer, rocking against his erection.

They didn’t make it to the bed. By the time he had pulled her shirt and bra off and she had shoved his shirt off his shoulders and unbuttoned his pants, it was quite clear that there was not going to be any waiting.

There was a brief moment of huffed laughter and flurried movement when he had to dig through his wallet to find a condom, but then his hands were on her hips and he was sliding into her with a groan that felt like it was pulling on his spine.

Darcy was letting out a low whimpering noise as her hips hitched against his. He cupped her cheek in one hand, “you alright?” he asked, holding himself still through sheer force of will.

“God, yes Steve,” she clutched at his hips and his back, “please.”

He tried, he really did, to hold a slow and steady rhythm, to find just the right angle. He sunk his fingers between them to find out where she liked to be touched. But she was canting her hips up to meet him harder and harder, one leg wrapped around his thigh bringing him deeper inside her, and he couldn’t hold on.

“Fuck,” he swore with enthusiasm as her fingernails bit into his shoulder and her breath in his ear whispered “harder.”

He could feel that she was close, but he wasn’t going to last, not with the way her hitching breaths were hitting him, not the way the skin of her breast tasted under his mouth. With a few erratic thrusts and a stiff groan, he came, clutching her waist with her name on his lips.

He was breathless and hazy for only a moment until he realised she was still twitching against him, fluttery and unfinished. Unacceptable.

He pulled out of her with a groan, quickly dealing with the condom and sliding down between her legs. The taste of her was earthy against his tongue and it only took a few careful strokes against her clit, two fingers pushing into her slick wetness before she cried out, pressing hard into his mouth and hand as she came.

He crawled back up to collapse heavy against her while her heart rate slowed and she stilled. He propped himself up on one arm.

“Hi,” he said with a grin as her eyes refocused.

“Hey,” she said, looking easy and content. He liked that look on her. He had every intention of seeing it as often as he could.

“So,” she went on after a moment, looking a little uncertain, “I guess I should…” she shifted like she was making to move, and Steve frowned in confusion.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to presume…” she trailed off. Steve understood at once, and grinned down at her, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

“Hey sugar,” he said with what he was sure was a dopey smile, “you rationed?”

She looked at him carefully for a moment before a sunny grin broke across her face. “I suppose I am, soldier.”


End file.
